


aim for the stars

by thunderylee



Category: SixTONES (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tattoo Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2019-01-15 17:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12325368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Tattoo artist Jesse inks schoolboy Hokuto.





	aim for the stars

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for kink bingo (chastity device).

The whirring of the tattoo machine blurs his hearing to the point where he doesn’t notice that someone else had entered the store until there’s a loud rapping on the wall.

“If I was sticking a needle into your throat, you wouldn’t want me to jump, right?” he asks calmly, his voice low but strong. “Have a seat. I’m just finishing up.”

Without looking up, he knows that the patron does as he’s told. They always do. They come here for a reason, after all. It would be a shame to leave and go somewhere else when they’re already here and he’s almost done.

He also knows better than to tell his current customer not to hop right up the moment he’s done, since most of the colorful artwork on the other man’s body is his own. This guy is part of the reason he’s working at all, even if he just runs the night shift for his dad.

“That’s gonna look so good when it’s colored,” he says, watching the newly tattooed microphone stretch in the mirror of his ‘office’, joining the multitude of other designs that entwine down both arms and disappear under a tank top. “You’re running out of places for me to ink you.”

He gets a sly grin in return. “Oh, there’s plenty more.”

“See you next time, Juri.”

“Later, Jesse.”

Jesse takes his sweet time cleaning up, making the next customer wait even longer. He’s pretty patient, whoever he is. Or she; Jesse supposes it could be a female. He certainly gets his share of ladies in the shop, too.

“Know what you want?” he asks, still not looking up, and for a second he thinks the other person might have actually left. Then there’s a shift in the leather and footsteps sound toward him. “Well?” he prods.

“I was hoping you could recommend something.”

The voice is soft and a little high, but definitely masculine. Jesse gives into the temptation to glance over and scoffs at the crisp high-school uniform and ballcap. “The infinity symbol is popular with the kids these days.”

“I’m eighteen,” the guy insists, sounding a little affronted. “I’ll show you my ID.”

Jesse holds up his hand. “I don’t care.”

Truth is, Jesse’s only seventeen, but his dad would get shut down if anyone found out. He’s been drawing since before he could write, first on paper and then other people, inking his friends with homemade tattoo machines made out of needles and thread before his father made him legit. Most of the pictures on the wall are his, and many of his customers either come back for more or send someone else. Nobody cares how old he is when he can turn their bodies into art.

Tonight had been slow so far, a weeknight in the middle of the school year when nobody but Tanaka Juri thought about getting inked. This new kid doesn’t look like the type at all, but Jesse’s not about to turn away business. There might also be something appealing about the pure untainted skin and how much Jesse’s fingers itch to get under it.

“You could get something tribal,” he says, gesturing to a wall of pictures behind the counter. “That guy who was just in here, he and his brothers all have it on their chests. Well, except the youngest one.”

“I don’t know…” the guy trails off, eyes darting between all of the pictures like he doesn’t know which ones to look at first.

He’s good looking, Jesse notices. Probably popular with his classmates—girls _and_ boys. He’s obviously nervous, but putting on a brave face for Jesse. Ordinarily Jesse would tell him to calm down and help him pick a design, but somehow it’s more fun this way. He _likes_ it.

“What’s your name?” Jesse asks, standing intimidatingly close.

“Matsumura Hokuto.”

“Hokuto…” Jesse’s face lights up as he finds a picture of the Big Dipper he’d done on a cute dark-skinned girl who was visiting from the islands. “Hokuto!”

“Oh,” Hokuto says, like he’d just realized what his own name means. “That’s nice, but where would I put it?”

“Wherever feels good,” Jesse replies, choosing his wording carefully. There’s really only one reason why pristine preppy boys get tattoos, after all.

The flush that spreads across Hokuto’s face proves Jesse’s theory. “Hipbone maybe? Or is that too girly?”

Jesse shrugs. “Depends who’s gonna see it.”

Hokuto seems to think about that, then nods decidedly. “Hipbone.”

“Hop up,” is all Jesse says, patting the chair. “Push down your pants enough to expose the area and get comfortable.”

He expects hesitation, but Hokuto’s in the chair before Jesse has a chance to lean it back enough for him to lie flat. Jesse’s actually a little impressed as Hokuto whips open his belt and unfastens his pants with no shame, pushing the right side down as instructed.

As Jesse gets to work cleaning the area, he notices Hokuto sitting up on his elbows. “You gonna watch?”

“Is that okay?”

Jesse shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

He goes through the safety speech, droning on about sterilization and aftercare, and Hokuto’s eyes look about as attentive as his tone. His focus is on his hipbone, where Jesse uses a felt pen to draw the constellation.

“This okay?” he asks. “There’s quite a bit of pain if you get it right on the bone, just so you know.”

“I don’t mind,” Hokuto says, and suddenly Jesse needs to take a deep breath. “It’ll feel good.”

Jesse thinks he imagined that last part until he looks up, meeting Hokuto’s eyes for the first time. The undeniable lust that radiates from them penetrates Jesse as well, making him even more ready to pierce that clear skin over and over. This is why he does this, after all. The sadistic sensation of tattooing others is better than any sex he’s ever had.

Even better if the person he’s tattooed gets off on it too, which turns out to be more literal than Jesse intended as he positions his machine at the tip of the first star and Hokuto shudders beneath him. “I need you to stay still,” he says gently, despite his blood racing at Hokuto’s reaction.

“Sorry,” Hokuto gasps, not even trying to hide how much he’s enjoying this, and Jesse hasn’t even started yet. “Go ahead.”

The familiar whirring sound fills Jesse’s ears as he begins the design, eyes locked on his instrument while listening for any signs of discomfort. Both of Hokuto’s hands are squeezed into fists at his sides, but he’s otherwise still and breathing hard enough for Jesse to hear over the loud machine. He keeps going, finishing the first star and making the connecting line to the next one, getting closer to Hokuto’s hip bone until he makes a shrill noise that’s a cross between pain and pleasure.

“You okay?” Jesse asks gently. “We can take a break if you want.”

“No, keep going,” Hokuto pants, and all of Jesse’s nerves flare up at the obvious arousal that rises with each prick of his needle. “Don’t stop.”

Jesse bites back a noise that is most definitely not professional and gets to work on the second star. He’s gotten a rush from tattooing so many times—the main reason why he does it, to be honest—but no one has had such a gratuitous reaction as Hokuto, making Jesse feel hot all over without being touched.

“Sorry,” Hokuto says, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m being inappropriate.”

“It’s fine,” Jesse replies through gritted teeth. He’s not about to fuck some stranger in his place of work, but his body would sure like to; he doesn’t pause after the next star, doing three more in succession in an attempt to alleviate his tension.

“You’re turned on too, right?” Hokuto asks, and Jesse doesn’t answer. “I can see it in your face. You can touch me if you want.”

“I’d rather tattoo you,” Jesse tells him. He knows from Hokuto’s sigh that they both know that he’s not just talking business. He’s inking right along Hokuto’s hipbone now and it has to hurt like a bitch, but Hokuto’s so hard that Jesse can see the bump in his pants, inches away from where Jesse’s other hand is pulling his skin taut.

“Fuck,” Hokuto hisses, followed by the filthiest moan Jesse has heard outside of AVs, and Jesse has to stop himself from pushing the tattoo machine even harder, taking out his frustration on Hokuto’s skin and seriously hurting him. Instead Jesse fixes his eyes on the design, embedding it in his mind to forever be associated with Hokuto and his moans, staring so intently that he almost doesn’t hear Hokuto speak again: “Can I touch you, then?”

Jesse’s skin burns at the forward question, but still he shakes his head. That would be worse than the other way around. “No, but you can touch yourself.”

He didn’t think the other guy would actually do it, but Hokuto surprises him for the second time by shoving his hand right down into his open pants and pumping himself slowly. His noises are even dirtier now, his body tense as he stays propped up on one elbow and watches the needle continuously prick his skin.

“Stay still,” is all Jesse says, but all of his feelings come out in his strained voice. Hokuto has to hear it, but all he does is move his hand faster so that his hips don’t try to push up into it. Jesse doesn’t take his eyes off of the tattoo, determined to finish it properly with straight lines and perfectly proportional stars, but Hokuto’s cock shines in his peripheral vision, poking out of the fabric of his open pants with each stroke upward.

“Are you almost done?” Hokuto breathes. “I’m close.”

“Almost, yeah,” Jesse answers, regretfully since he’s on the last star, wishing that Hokuto wanted constellations all over his abdomen so that he didn’t have to stop. It feels good in a way Jesse can’t explain, in a way he can’t experience from conventional sex, and he doesn’t want it to end.

Not to mention the complete mess lying beneath him, nearly shuddering from the force of not moving. Jesse chances a look up to Hokuto’s face and has to pull his machine back, losing his breath at the sight of Hokuto’s flushed face and dark, dark eyes. Hokuto notices him staring and smirks, smugly like he has the upper hand here, and Jesse fills in the stars a little harder than he should.

“Done,” he says, barely lifting the gun out of the way before Hokuto arches and comes on his own stomach with a low moan. Jesse watches in surreal disassociation, feeling like he’s the one having the orgasm despite being untouched and not even that erect. There’s some kind of high, regardless, more than just the usual rush he gets from tattooing, because Hokuto had gotten off on it too.

“So how much do I owe you?” Hokuto asks casually, like he wasn’t tucking his cock back into his underwear and wiping his chest with his handkerchief.

Jesse shakes his head. “On the house,” he says, because it feels wrong to charge money for such a sexual experience. “Just come back here for your next one, okay?”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere else,” Hokuto tells him earnestly, and Jesse’s heart swells like they’d just exchanged words of love. “Is there something I can do to repay the favor?”

His tone leaves no doubt as to what he’s offering, but Jesse just shakes his head, images of the tattoo swimming behind his eyes. “No need. You’ve already made me see stars.”


End file.
